Glendon Watchdog Gets Things Done

She's soft-voiced, mild of manner and sweet, advising a visitor suffering from hay fever to drink tea with honey and lemon ("you'll feel better"). She gives the impression of being a cream-puff.

So much for first impressions.

As a well-connected developer and several Glendon Borough councilmen and residents have discovered, to their chagrin, Farmer can be a terror. Anyone violating borough ordinances or threatening to spoil its small-town charm sooner or later becomes the object of her ire. Cheered by friends and residents, she's a tireless watchdog for the one-square-mile community of 300 people.

"She's a very active person," said Karin Brittain, a regular at council meetings. "When she gets her teeth into something, she sticks to it."

As she does the first Wednesday of every month, surrounded by half-a-dozen allies, Glendon's tiger lady appeared before council last week. Two residents living near borough hall are operating businesses in residential areas without proper zoning permits, the attractive 40-year-old complained.

Council directed the zoning officer to pursue the matter, which is more action than she usually gets on her complaints. More often than not, she's reduced to sardonically entreating council to enforce its ordinances.

Although addressed to all, Farmer's barbs usually are aimed specifically at a troika comprised of Mayor Donald F. Hawkins, Council President Charles Seip and zoning officer Edwin Atkinson. For several years, she's been the proverbial thorn in their sides.

"They push you around," she said in an interview. "It's like pulling teeth to get something done."

At meetings, she's always prepared to cite ordinances, chapter and verse: "They are always going to say, `What are you talking about?' because they never know. They say they need proof."

In her dogged pursuit of truth and justice, Farmer even has turned sleuth. "They don't believe what I'm saying. It's like they don't want to believe it. I shouldn't have to do that, I feel, but if that's the only way things are going to get done ... " she says plaintively, her voice trailing off.

Two months ago, after complaining several times earlier about junked cars besmirching Glendon, Farmer handed council several snapshots of the offending vehicles. She prodded Mayor Hawkins to go after the owners.

Hawkins hemmed and hawed, and it appeared the matter would lead nowhere, until a council newcomer jumped into the fray, decisively swinging council to action: Violators could be arrested and fined $100 if the alleged violations are not corrected.

"It's the mayor's job to enforce the ordinances," an exasperated Farmer said. "He appears reluctant. I guess he's afraid to make enemies."

The lack of enforcement, Farmer said, means that the perennially cash-strapped borough, which has a budget of about $97,000, is forfeiting an "unbelievable" amount of fines that could be used to pay for things it can't afford -- traffic signs and road paving, for example.

She emphasizes she has nothing against Seip, Hawkins and Atkinson personally. It's what she sees as their foot-dragging job performance, or lack of job performance, that she objects to.

"She has a right to her views; I got a right to mine," said Seip, who gained a prominent place in Farmer's doghouse several years ago when he voted with the majority of a previous council to approve the construction of an incinerator in the borough. "Whether you agree or not, you have to respect each other's views.

"I'm kind of glad we have people like that," Seip said. "For years we had no people at borough hall. Now, we got lots of people, and they have lots of interest.

"She's not a thorn in my side by no means. I guess she's got valid reasons for doing what she does."

When informed that Seip appreciates her input, Farmer chuckled. Third parties have told her Seip refers to her as "a troublemaker," "that Lana," or "she called me again."

Hawkins and Atkinson declined to comment for this article.

The targets of Farmer's complaints don't always take it lying down, she admitted. "I get harassed all the time, and there's no need for that," she said.

Once, she recalls, she complained to council that a neighbor was dumping garbage on her property. Irate, the man called her at home, berating her in the middle of the night to mind her own business.

Her husband, a husky ex-Marine and Vietnam veteran, grabbed the phone from her, giving the neighbor a piece of his mind. The neighbor has "been nice since then," she said.

And if her husband isn't around to protect her, she has Bogart and Okie, two black Labradors, each weighing about 70 pounds, who on command will prove that their bite is worse than their bark.

Contrary to what some may think, the New Jersey native wasn't always an activist ("I never even voted when I was in Jersey."). Home ownership sparked the change.